The Sick Britt
by Love-Peace-Anime
Summary: So, England gets sick and France and America decide to take care of him. (One Shot) No yaoi intented. Human Names Used. **Rights go to rightful owners**


"Can you come over, Alfred? I need your help. And _don't_ bring that _Frog_," Arthur Kirkland asked sitting up in his bed, running a hand through his sweaty-yellow-blond-thick hair. He hadn't been feeling the greatest since the last meeting, which was about a week ago. Arthur coughed into his hand and groaned as it hurt his chest.

What happened the last time Francis took care of him when he was sick, it didn't turn out quite so nice. Let's just say that Francis had gotten sick shortly after he left Arthur's house the next day.

"Is something wrong, Artie?" Alfred Jones asked concerned. Alfred was busy playing a new video game from Im Yong-Soo when Arthur called. Arthur coughed again.

"Yes, I'm getting sick, you bloody twat!" Arthur sneezed.

_Not again,_ Alfred thought, shaking his head, making his dirty blond hair to move around his face. Arthur was always getting sick these days. The last time he was sick was when the weather in England was getting bad. With it raining all the time, it didn't help.

"I'll be on my way," Alfred sighed. The two hung up. _Wonder why he doesn't want Francis there? I'll surprise him,_ Alfred thought. Alfred smiled and picked up the phone again.

* * *

Alfred walked into the Briton's house with his surprise.

"Onhonhon. So Arthur is sick?" Francis Bonnefoy asked laughing. Alfred nodded looking into the house.

"Artie! We're here, dude! Where are you?" Alfred asked looking around the downstairs.

Arthur got up with a blanket the colors of the British flag draped on his shoulders. He walked slowly downstairs and saw the person who he thought wasn't allowed to come at the door. Francis was standing at the door in the most colorful outfit Arthur has seen in his life. Like he couldn't expect less from the French; Francis was always wearing something bright and stand-outish.

"What are you doing here, _Frog_?" Arthur spat glaring daggers at the unwanted man. Said man just laughed and moved his shoulder-length blond hair from his bluish-purple eyes.

"Dude, Artie-"

"Arthur, twat."

"-you're supposed to be in bed," Alfred said pointing upstairs with a disapproving shake of his head.

"But, I was-"

"No buts. Go to your bed!" Alfred huffed. Arthur sighed and walked back upstairs to his bed.

"Just tell me what to do, twat," Arthur mumbled sarcastically.

Arthur covered up and watched as Alfred and Francis walked into his room. Alfred had a thermometer in his hand.

"Put this in your mouth, Artie," Alfred said handing the thermometer to Arthur.

Arthur sighed and sat up. He put the thermometer in his mouth annoyed.

_Francis is unusually quiet. How odd_, Arthur thought. He looked at the Frenchman.

_Arthur looks different. Maybe he _is _sick? He's still in his night clothes and it doesn't look like he's brushed his hair, yet,_ Francis thought. He realized Arthur was looking at him. He smiled at the Briton and Arthur returned his gaze at Alfred.

The thermometer beeped and Alfred pulled it out of Arthur's mouth.

"100.7°," he read. He looked up through his glasses at Arthur who was now lying back down.

"Oh, Arthur _is _sick," Francis stated.

"Of course I am, _Frog_," Arthur said closing his emerald green eyes. He took a deep breath. _Just breathe. In and out_, Arthur told himself. _If I'm lucky, this won't turn out as it did last time._

It got quiet in Arthur's room as Francis left to use the rest room.

"Dude, Artie. I'll make some chicken noodle soup for ya. I'll be right back," Alfred said looking at the man with his eyes closed.

Arthur nodded and yawned. "Fine, fine. Do whatever you like," Arthur said waving off the American. Alfred left the room, leaving his part-brother all alone.

_It's only going to be about five minutes. And besides Francis should be back before me. What could happen? _Alfred thought grabbing a can of chicken and noodle soup when he reached the kitchen on the base floor.

As Francis walked back to Arthur's room, he couldn't help but feel kind of sad for the man. He also realized how quite it was.

Francis walked into Arthur's room. He looked at the man on the bed. He could hear a faint snoring. "You fell asleep, Arthur," Francis whispered taking a seat at the end of the bed. He looked at Arthur and sighed feeling helpless.

"Hey, Artie, I'm back," Alfred said walking into the room with a tray. On the tray held a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice. He looked at Francis looking at Arthur.

"He fell asleep, Alfred," Francis said looking at said man.

Alfred's smile faded as he set the tray on Arthur's night table next to the bed.

"Well, wanna watch TV?" Alfred offered as he sat down in a chair somewhat near the door. Francis shruged and turned on the television that is in Arthur's room.

After an hour of watching the televison, Arthur turned in his sleep making Alfred and Francis look at him with concern relfecting off each other.

"Maybe we should get Arthur a cold rag, Alfred," Francis suggested, feeling the worry coming off the American.

"Good idea. I'll be back," Alfred said standing up. Before he left, he looked back at Arthur.

Before long, Alfred came back into Arthur's room. _It looks like he moved again_, Alfred thought looking at the older sleeping man.

"Should I wake him, Alfred?" Francis asked breaking Alfred's thoughts. Alfred nodded even though he knew Arthur needed sleep. His temperature needed to go down, too, though.

Francis shook Arthur's shoulder and he swated Francis's hand away. Alfred laughed.

"Get away, _Frog_. I'm up," Arthur said with his eyes still closed.

"Hey, Artie," Alfred began softly; "Here is a wet rag. Keep it on your head. And let me take your temperature again."

Arthur nodded and moaned slightly. He held out his hand and felt Alfred put the rag in it. His eyes were still closed as he set the rag on his hot forehead.

"Open wide, Artie," Alfred said as Arthur opened his mouth. Arthur was too tired to argue about the nickname and the childish saying. Alfred put the thermometer in his mouth and Arthur closed it again.

After about a minute, it beeped and Alfred took it out of Arthur's mouth. He opened his eyes as he watched Alfred.

Said man frowned. "101.2°. It's rising. Hopefully the cold rag will bring it back down." Francis walked up behind Alfred and looked at the thermometer. "Oh, Artie, here's your soup," Alfred said gesturing to the night table. Arthur sat up and grabbed the soup.

He was _so _hungry. He couldn't keep any food down all day. He hoped that he could eat it.

Alfred and Francis watched as Arthur took his first bite of the soup. Arthur swallowed the bite and immediately regreted it. He stood up and ran into the bathroom where he threw up.

Alfred waited outside the closed door feeling sorry for making Arthur eat.

"Artie? Are you alright? Hey, I'm sorry for making you eat something, okay?"

The door opened. "I was the one who ate the soup, you git. So, I'm sorry for having you see that," Arthur said suddenly feeling light headed. Alfred saw Arthur's face pale.

"Artie? You 'light?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired all of a sudden." Arthur put a hand to his head as he felt a head ache coming.

"Here, let me help, Artie," Alfred said putting an arm around his ally. He walked Arthur to his room. Arthur sat on the bed and looked up at Alfred who was beside him. He smiled making Arthur smile. He fell back onto the bed exhausted.

Arthur yawned and his stomach growled.

"You're hungry, aren't you, Arthur?" Francis asked clearly hearing Arthur's empty stomach. Arthur nodded looking at the brightly dressed French.

"I got it, dude! Maybe you could eat a burger!"

"Those bloody things? Never!" Arthur protested.

"Common, dude! Can we at least try?" Alfred said looking at Arthur with sad blue eyes. They could make anyone melt in the matter of seconds.

Arthur sighed. "Fine." Alfred's face lit up as he stood up.

"I'll be right back, Artie," and with that, Alfred went to the nearest McDonald's for a burger.

"So, do you know how you got sick, Arthur?" Francis asked bored.

"No, _Frog_. But I presume it has something to do with the weather," Arthur said glaring. He pointed out the bedroom window. It was raining outside. Thunder rolled outside to emphisize his point.

"Frog? How hurtful. Can you be nice to me since I _am _taking care of you?"

"No, _Frog_," Arthur said. The two fell silent. But neither tried to make conversation, either.

After five minutes, Alfred walked back into the room with a bag from McDonald's, not sensing the tension between Arthur and Francis.

"Got your sammich," Alfred said tossing the bag to Arthur who seemed to gladly accept it.

"What? I'm hungry, you git!" Arthur said glaring.

"Sure. Just admit you like burgers," Alfred said smiling, pushing his limits.

"I hate these disgusting things you call bloody food!" Arthur said with disgust on his face.

"At least they're better than your cooking," Francis pointed out.

"Who asked you, _Frog_!" Arthur yells, straining his voice to do so.

Alfred laughed as he grabbed a burger from the bag. He couldn't resist having one himself. He was even nice enough to get Francis one. Just because he's that much of a hero.

"Reouonnaatouranmich?" Alfred asked while eating.

"I can't understand you, you git!"

"Sreousgonnaeatyoussandwich?" Alfred repeated slurping down a cup of Dr. Pepper.

Arthur stood up and grabbed the burger and drink from Alfred. "Now talk."

"Are you goin' to eat your sandwich?" Alfred asked annoyed. He grabbed his burger and drink and begain slurping again.

"I don't know, you bloody twat!" His stomach growled saying 'yes eat now!' Arthur sighed and looked at the burger. He _did _like Alfred's burgers but would _never _admit it to him.

Arthur took a bite and his stomach thanked him. Spoke too soon. He got the puking feeling again and ran into the bathroom where he threw up again. _Didn't work_, Arthur thought walking back to his room where Francis and Alfred were talking.

"Hey, Artie. Dude, I promise I will use my mind blowingly awesome hero skills and make you feel better." Alfred stood and held out his pinky.

Arthur latched onto him with his pinky, rolling his eyes. "Stop butchering the English language, git!" Arthur muttered. He lied back down and his stomach growled. Arthur sighed knowing he can't eat.

"Shall I go to the store and get some medicine, Alfred?" Francis asked looking at the tired Briton as he sat up again.

Alfred smiled. "Yeah, dude. Thanks!" he said. Francis left Arthur's house on that note.

Alfred looked at his brother with worry in his blue eyes.

Arthur smiled but his green eyes don't show the same feeling.

"U-um, I think it'd be best if you lied down, Art," Alfred said looking at the T.V. Arthur agreed and lied down.

Soon enough, Francis returned with some sleepy medicine. They gave Arthur a dose of it and before long, Arthur's eyes closed and faint snoring could be heard.

On and off, Arthur coughed or sneezed in his sleep worrying Francis and Alfred even more.

After about an hour of Arthur sneezing and coughing, he finally woke up again.

Arthur looked up and everything seemed to go fast.

"Artie! You're awake again," Alfred said.

"Slow down, Alfred. Why are you talking so fast?" Arthur asked slowly, sitting up.

"What are you talking about? I'm talking like I always do, Art." Once again, it seemed like he's talking too fast.

Francis looked at the medicine bottle. "Onhonhon, Alfred. Look at this."

Alfred walked over to Francis and looked at the medicine bottle. "Francis, you turd! Why didn't you read the side effects?"

"It didn't occur to me at the time, Alfred."

"Don't worry, Artie. The side effects should only last a few more hours." Arthur nodded.

After a few more times of Arthur falling asleep and waking up again, it was about 10:30 PM. Meaning, Alfred and Francis had to go home. Er, more like _Francis _had to go home. There was _not_ going to be a repeat of last time.

After Francis left, Alfred and Arthur really didn't talk about much. On and off they would talk about how their life was going. And other times, they'd talk about whatever was on their mind.

By the end of the night, Alfred had fallen asleep while talking to Arthur. Arthur looked at the sleeping American in wonder. _How does he always wear a smile? He makes it look easy._ For Arthur, it was hard for him to smile all the time.

"He looks a bit uncomfortable," Arthur mused to himself as Alfred adjusted his position on the chair he was residing in. Arthur sighed knowing this wasn't his _best_ idea he's had in a while, but the man in the chair was awfully uncomfortable.

Arthur stood up and walked the few feet to Alfred. He went to eye level with the American. He gently shook Alfred's arm and said man's eyes snapped open, prepared for anything that will be thrown at him. Alfred relaxed as he saw it was only Arthur.

Alfred was having a good dream about burgers and milkshakes when Arthur woke him up.

"Hmm?" Alfred asked quietly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"You looked uncomfortable sleeping here, on this chair," Arthur started with a soft blush on his cheeks. "If I am correct, you can join me on the bed." Arthur couldn't meet Alfred's gaze to know he was blushng too. "There is enough room for the both of us and you wouldn't catch my cold if we are at a good distance."

"S-sure." Alfred mentally slapped himself for letting his voice falter like it did. Both got into the bed together and an awkward silence filled the air. Before long, Alfred could hear the faint snors of Arthur, knowing full well that he was asleep.

Alfred rolled onto his side and looked at the man next to him. Arthur looked peaceful- almost in bliss. Then a small smile broke out on Arthur's face. Alfred smiled too thinking about the endless possibilities of what he could be dreaming about to make him smile. But, what Arthur was dreaming about would surprise anyone, including Alfred.

Arthur was dreaming of when Alfred had stuck up for him all of those times when others had bullied him through his middle school years. Now, even though that was five years ago, Arthur would always be thankful for it. He was also dreaming of how their family was. Alfred and his twin brother, Matthew, were the only ones who were blood related. Arthur was their adoptive brother. Francis was that cousin that never left the family alone.

He was thankful for them. Even Francis, even if he _did_ try to invade his personal space when he was least expecting it.

Alfred smiled again as he soon felt his eyes get heavy. Before long, both men were alseep on the bed.

Sooner or later, morning came and Arthur claimed to be feeling better than he did the day before.

"Really, Art? Or are you just saying that to make me leave?" Alfred questioned.

"Really, you twat! Why would I lie about that, git?" Arthur exclaimed. Alfred smiled and took Arthur's temperature again. Only this time, it had evened back out to a fair 96.8°.

Alfred read it out loud and said, "Only a hero could make someone as sick as Artie feel better in 24 hours!"

Arthur laughed and told Alfred to leave his house. Alfred looked hurt but left anyway.

As he was walking to his car, Arthur called him.

"Yeah, dude?"

"U-um, thanks, for taking care of me. I-it means a lot," Arthur said, his face going red.

Alfred laughed. "No problem, dude. Anytime." He jumped into his car and drove away leaving Arthur all better.

Arthur smiled as he walked into his house. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked having Alfred around.

* * *

**Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this! Well, review, follow, favorite. Till next time. Peace!**


End file.
